


Liminal Space

by kayelem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayelem/pseuds/kayelem
Summary: She made a deal with the Nogitsune because she couldn't just watch him die.





	Liminal Space

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even go here, but this is part of something I was working on a long, long time ago when I did. And for some reason this is what my brain decided that it wanted to work on the last two days. Sooo… enjoy a piece of something I will probably never finish, I just needed to post it because I was actually pretty proud of it, and it technically can stand on its own, as is.

 

 

 

 

 

> _Inside a broken mind is the place that I call home.  
>  __I let my thoughts unwind, as they leave my body panic prone.  
>  __I beg for peace within me, as I lose a piece of me._  
>  _Silent screams refuse to ring, cause hopelessness can’t sing._    
>  - “Inside Voices”, Too Close To Touch

 

By the time he actually manages to get to his own bed, Stiles has no expectations of sleeping despite the exhaustion that he feels dragging down his every movement. It's late... or early and too much has happened. But he sinks to sit on his bed anyway, sheets rumpling between his fingers as they grip the edge of the mattress, acutely aware of the stillness in the house and the hollow, aching emptiness in the center of his chest.

Stiles had thought that once he was separated from the Nogitsune that he'd start to feel more like himself, but the truth is... he doesn't. His skin doesn't feel like it fits his bones, somehow simultaneously too tight and too loose, and _itching_ like there's bugs crawling through his muscle and sinew. Stiles doesn't even feel _human_ anymore in the worst way, and doubts if he ever will again. And he wonders, distantly, if he decides to open a vein does he still bleed red or was the darkness he'd carried so all-consuming that it now pulses through his very blood.

He hears someone on the stairs and a few footsteps later Scott appears in the doorway of Stiles's bedroom. Scott doesn't say anything right away, uncertainty visible in the furrow of his brow and the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot. Stiles doesn't say anything either, doesn't turn to look at his best friend because he doesn't know how Scott can even bear to look at _him_ now that he knows just how weak he really is. The only one that couldn't close the door they opened.

“Hey,” Scott finally says, braving a step beyond the threshold, then another until he lowers himself beside Stiles on the bed. “You okay?”

It takes all of what's left of Stiles's self-control not to give in to the white hot anger that explodes inside of him with a violence that makes him shudder. He _doesn't_ _want_ Scott's fucking concern, his care, his unwavering love and loyalty. The yawning guilt inside of him is calling for Scott's rage, hungry for his disappointment; demanding that _someone_ hold Stiles accountable for all of the unforgivable things that bore his fingerprints while the Nogitsune wore his face.

But Stiles knows, he _knows_ , Scott is going to be the _last_ person to blame him for any of it. Even Allison... maybe especially Allison. And there's a small part of Stiles that wants to hate him for it because he knows that if Scott's not going to blame him, he's going to blame himself.

“Not really,” Stiles admits with a shake of his head.

Scott nods, and there's a hesitation in his movements that momentarily satisfies the guilt before his hand closes over Stiles's shoulder. “We're gonna get her back, Stiles,” he says.

Stiles sucks in a breath and closes his eyes against the memory, though it replays anyway, of just how sideways their plan had gone. It should have worked, even though the Nogitsune thought it knew what they'd had planned...

But none of them had accounted for Imogene.

Stiles still doesn't know what drove her to leave his side, panic maybe, when the dark spirit had knocked Scott away like nothing and began to stalk toward them with murder in its eyes. But she'd stepped up to it, squared herself in front of Stiles and Lydia and told the Nogitsune that she wanted to make a deal.

 

“ _NO!”_

_Stiles lunges forward, away from Lydia to grab Imogene and pull her back. He doesn't see her hands move at her sides and instead crashes against the invisible barrier of her magic. She glances at him over her shoulder with something in her eyes that he doesn't understand before turning back to the creature wearing his face._

_It appraises her from head to toe, appreciation and amusement glittering in its eyes as an eyebrow arches up. Behind it, Scott staggers to his feet, throws himself against the barrier along with Stiles, shouting at Imogene not to do this. Stiles sees the panicked look she shoots in Scott's direction because she knows that her weakened magic won't hold up against the Alpha's strength for long. But Stiles can already feel his meager strength draining, his exertions against Imogene's barrier becoming weaker until he can only press his forehead against it helplessly and blink back the sudden burning in his eyes._

_The Nogitsune moves, circling around her now and Stiles can see its mouth moving, but can't make out what its saying to her. Her head moves on a swivel, watching the dark spirit as it makes its rounds, surely explaining her end of the deal she's trying to make._

_When it comes back to stand in front of her, Stiles knows it's going to agree because he recognizes the sick, self-satisfied smirk. It nods in agreement and Imogene holds out her hand for it to shake. But the smirk stretches into a full smile as the creature shakes its head. Imogene's hand falls to her side, her head tilts to the side in confusion._

_Then Stiles feels it, the brush against his mind as the Nogitsune reaches out to him, **Are you watching, Stiles?**_

_Everything seems to happen in slow motion then, and the spirit opens the connection that is still between them, allowing Stiles to hear and feel everything. The Nogitsune reaches up, its hand (Stiles's hand) cups the side of Imogene's face almost lovingly, thumb stroking down the angle of her cheekbone, moves on to thread into the hair at the back of her head. Then it wrenches her head back so suddenly that Imogene cries out in pain, pulls her up and crushes its (his) mouth to hers before she has time to catch her breath._

_Stiles redoubles his effort against the barrier draining to the dregs his energy and will, scarcely aware that he's screaming. And the Nogitsune watches his struggles, laughing in the back of Stiles's mind; he can taste Imogene's kiss on his own tongue._

_The shadows close in suddenly, smothering all the light, and Stiles blinks into the blinding blackness as a cacophony of insect wings rises to fills the silence. Imogene's barrier shatters outward, throwing Stiles back into Lydia and he hears Scott slam into the lockers._

_He pushes himself up to his elbows, heart sinking when his gaze lands on Imogene. When she looks up and meets his gaze, there is nothing human in her eyes, nothing at all, and Stiles feels the burn of bile rise in the back of this throat. The smile that pulls at her lips is all wrong, dark and cold, and sharp with too many teeth – a reminder that predators show their teeth as a threat._

_Stiles blinks and she's gone, the Nogitsune's laughter fading in its wake._

 

Stiles rolls his eyes and for a moment wants to punch Scott for his endless, unflinching optimism. And why would Scott be anything _but_ optimistic? After all, so far he's overcome everything Beacon Hills has thrown at him since being bitten and come out none the worse for wear. But Scott hadn't let the darkness he, Allison and Stiles let in take root inside his soul, hadn't let it grow and take more day by day until he was no longer in control.

 So Stiles doesn't reply, but finds himself nodding anyway, the empty gesture seeming to satisfy Scott who squeezes his shoulder. He doesn't give voice to the gnawing doubt inside of him because he doesn't want to hear any more of his friend's platitudes. He doesn't tell Scott about how afraid he is that when they find Imogene, they won't be able to save her, and how if they can't that it might just kill him too.

“I'm gonna be downstairs til your dad gets home. Try to get some sleep, alright?” Scott tells him, squeezing his shoulder again before pushing to his feet.

 _Not fucking likely,_ Stiles doesn't reply. He wonders if Scott can even really appreciate the irony of telling Stiles to get some sleep when doing just that had allowed the Nogitsune to take advantage of him in the first place.

Stiles waits until he hears Scott's footsteps on the stairs before he heaves a sigh and swings his legs up onto the bed to lay back. He blinks up at his ceiling, trying not to think about the look in Imogene's eye before she turned to make her deal, tries not to think about the sound of the Nogitsune's satisfied laugh as it took her... about the secondhand, ghost feeling of her lips against his.

His eyelids flutter slowly until Stiles eventually drifts... gently... into sleep –

Only to jerk awake when his forehead thumps against the horn of his jeep.

Stiles sits up in the driver's seat so suddenly that his neck cricks, the panic creeping in, digging its suffocating fingers into his lungs, his heart beating so fast that it _hurts_. Not again! He's separated from the Nogitsune, this shouldn't still be happening! Sucking in a gasping breath, he looks down at his hands – doesn't see an extra finger...

“Stiles.”

His head snaps up and he realizes that he's parked outside of a diner, the neon of its sign casting hazy fluorescence across the dashboard. He sees Imogene in the window, eyes fixed on him and the panic beings to ebb. She jerks her head, motioning for him to come inside and sit with her.

When he opens the door, Stiles can hear the background noise that typically fills a diner – the scrape of a spatula on the grill, the bell of the cash register, clinking of cutlery on ceramic, the din of indistinct chatter - but it's empty save for him and Imogene. Something inside of him aches when he slides into the empty seat across from her and she grants him a slow, warm smile, like she's so happy to see him. But she can't seem to bring herself to look at him for too long and her eyes drift back down to the mug curled in her fingers.

“This is a dream?” he asks her. He _thinks_ it is, but he needs the confirmation. Imogene nods, brings up her left hand to show the extra finger there and the relief that floods through Stiles slumps him into the vinyl of the seat. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

She shakes her head. “I don't know. I just know it took us to a liminal space. And I'm fine... for now.”

“A... liminal space?”

“Somewhere time and reality is a bit altered; a... transitional place,” she explains.

“How were you able to do... this?” Stiles asks, gesturing around the diner. “Especially without it knowing.”

The smile returns to her face, this one full of delighted mischief, but it doesn't bring a shudder to his bones because it is entirely Imogene. “The Nogitsune learned its lesson with you and has entirely segregated our minds. It probably thinks I'm sleeping.”

Stiles nods. “... Okay. Then I'm sure you know what my next question is going to be: What the _hell_ were you thinking, Imogene!? We had a plan!”

Imogene flinches at the sudden sharpness in his voice, her shoulders rounding in on themselves with chagrin. She doesn't speak for a long moment, and when she looks back up at him there's tears brimming in her eyes. He doesn't understand the heartbreak in her expression, the way her eyes are pleading with him.

When she finally takes a breath to answer, her voice is barely a whisper, her eyes trained on the mug in front of her. “You were going to _die_ , Stiles,” Imogene tells him, her tone hedged with something heavy. “I couldn't let that happen.”

It feels like an ice cold bucket of water gets upturned over his head. He had known he was dying, that the Nogitsune was siphoning his life to grow stronger, but if he's being perfectly honest... Stiles hadn't been able to bring himself to care that much. If death was going to be the punishment for all the things he had done, then it was one he would have accepted happily. But to hear the sadness threading through Imogene's words... Stiles's heart gives a painful lurch.

When he says nothing, Imogene charges on, words coming out in a rush as though she's trying to get it all out in case he decides to interrupt her. “The Nogitsune miscalculated when it separated from you. You had grown too weak for it to maintain the co-existence, but it couldn't just hide itself back in the corner of your mind and wait for you to regain your strength because we all knew it was there now. So it tricked us into separating the two of you. But becoming _real_ took more out of it than it bargained for, so it had no choice but to maintain the tether between you, to continue siphoning off of you. You weren't completely separated and it started taking more and more; what do you think would have happened if the plan had worked? Why did you think you felt _so_ weak despite being free?”

Stiles feels his mouth drop open. “I just thought...”

“That _you_ were weak?”

His eyes dart up to her face in surprise and he nods in reply. A broken sound slips from Imogene's lips and her hand reaches across the space between them to grab his and he has to resist the urge to pull back. The last thing he deserves is her easy affections. Nonetheless, Stiles lets himself take comfort in the gesture.

“Isn't that the reason all this happened? Because I was _weak_ ,” he spits out, voice breaking over his bitterness.

He hears Imogene sigh, her fingers curling around the side of his hand. “You're not weak, Stiles. This happened because... your emotional tether wasn't strong enough.”

“... What do you mean?”

Another sigh. “When you, Allison and Scott sacrificed yourselves, the ritual called for you to tether your soul to another, to... anchor you, and call you back. That tether, fully realized, should have also lead you to the door that opened when you crossed over, but it didn't. The Nogtisune wouldn't have chosen you if you were weak.”

“But – ”

“You _listen_ to me, Stiles Stilinski!” Imogene snaps, tightening her hand almost painfully around his. He forces himself to meet her eyes, narrowed in determination. “What the Nogitsune found and latched on to _was not_ weakness and it wasn't a secret evil that you carried in your soul either. Do you understand?”

Stiles nods despite himself, doesn't trust himself to speak with the way his throat is tightening. He brings her hand to his face, presses his mouth to her knuckles and watches her stern expression melt into one of soft affection.

“I still don't understand _why_ you did this,” he admits to her, lowering her hand and rubbing his fingers over her knuckles.

Imogene blinks at him owlishly in surprise, lips parted on a breath. “Oh, Stiles...” is all she says, voice pitying. “I thought you knew... I thought you knew and you were just being kind.”

“Knew... what?”

She turns to look out the window of the diner into the darkness of their shared dream, eyebrows drawing together. “I have to go, it's calling for me.”

Imogene reclaims her hand somewhat reluctantly and slides out of the booth. The panic returns, rising like a wave inside of him. Stiles doesn't want Imogene to go, he doesn't know what his dreams will look like once she does. And he needs to know what else she was going to say.

She pauses beside Stiles's side of the booth, a conflict warring on her face before she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, seeming to arm herself with all of her courage as she turns toward him. Her knee bends up to rest on the seat, curving over him, her hands coming up to frame his face and draw him toward her. Stiles realizes what's about to happen and doesn't move, afraid that if he does, she'll change her mind. And Stiles didn't realize how much he _wanted_ this until now.

They breathe as one for a moment, and when Imogene finally presses her lips softly to his, Stiles doesn't have it in him to be embarrassed about the sound that she swallows. His hand curves around the back of her neck to pull her down towards him, tongue brushing along the seam of her mouth. There's a sweetness to Imogene's hesitation before she opens to him fully, mouth warm and yielding against his and Stiles relishes in the soft murmur of pleasure that slips from her tongue.

Imogene pulls back first, forehead pressing against his with her eyes firmly closed and breathing heavy. But Stiles drags his eyes over her face, the flush blossomed across her cheeks and under her collarbones, her lips pink and kiss-swollen. _Now_ Stiles understands why Imogene did what she did and can't believe how stupid he is not to have realized it sooner. And he wants to ask her how long, _how long_. Maybe he will when they see one another again.

“I have to go,” she says again, drawing away from him. “I've bought you time, Stiles. Find the door, close it once and for all. You need to sever your connection to the Nogitsune before you face it again.”

He nods in understanding, and Imogene stoops to drop a kiss to his forehead, Stiles's heart clenching knowing that she's going to return to that creature. And he has to let her.

Stiles calls her name when she opens the door to the diner and Imogene turns back to him again, a question in her eyes. “... I think you were meant to be my anchor,” he tells her.

She doesn't say anything, just gives him a watery, fragile smile before leaving the diner –

And Stiles wakes up in his own bed, sunlight streaming in through the window, feeling more rested than he has in months.

 

 


End file.
